


Serendipity

by misterwoodhouse



Category: Free!
Genre: I don't know, M/M, and gets really accomplished, everyone goes to university, rich people au, smart people au, society of intellectuals au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misterwoodhouse/pseuds/misterwoodhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rin is an accomplished linguist, and he likes to spend his days chatting with his friends over tea and dinners. When Aiichirou Nitori enters the small society Rin and his friends run in, he doesn't expect to be quite so pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

> To sweet Rin, for being accomplished in every way. I will indulge you to the end of my days.
> 
> Waltz recommendations: 1) Franz Schubert's "Valses Sentimentales" Op. 50, D. 779-Excerpt; 2) Johann Strauss II's "Die Fledermaus: Overture"

Outlined by the smoky incandescence of the day's last rays of warm sunlight filtering through the fogged over walls of a glass greenhouse, small round droplets of water fell from the tip of one gladiolus petal to another, carrying with them a myriad of hues like a multitude of miniature lenses, each one lifting the absolute colors within its gaze and swirling them together into ephemeral abstract portraits; moments of indiscernible yet poignant composition. Heavy breaths thick like steam floated over the delicate sound of water splashing against petals, filling the room with the fervent life of a fortuitous meeting. Two bodies tangled together like a rising gladiolus blooming, backs arched like the sheathed petals as they stroked and moved against one another. Sweat dewed on their skin; the room’s tropical heat clung onto them, surrounded and encased them in the inferno of their union. 

They weren’t supposed to be there—at least, not in this way. Not with Ai’s once billowing layers of fine white lace and satin now pooled around his waist and laying disregarded on the marble floors just beside their chaise lounge. Only his lace cape sliding down his dainty shoulders—occasionally brushing against Rin’s skin—remained intact, but that was mostly because Rin really couldn’t be bothered with the buttons. And if he gave it some thought, he’d say he even liked the aesthetic on Ai.

At the conscious level, however, the look was ostensible to Rin. Even obnoxious. When he saw Ai for the first time that day, coming down the grand staircase of red velvet and dark wood railings to greet his gathering guests, Rin was remarkably pissed. Who wore white and lace outside of a wedding? And as a man—what was Ai thinking? He didn’t want to say he might look like a tableau vivant, floating down like a dream. That was far too charming, and Rin was irrationally and unexpectedly vexed at the time. Consequently, he was unrelenting. 

As Ai walked down the stairs, he addressed the room. “Hello there! I’m so glad to see you all here.” He brought his hands close to his face, the textured detailing of his cuffs brought to contrast by his smooth skin, the gold eyeglasses gleaming under the sunlight falling through the glass ceiling. His eyes scanned the room carefully, falling on each face. Rin caught his gaze for a fleeting moment. “But don’t hang around here. The salon has tea and morsels to your liking. I’ll join you soon enough.” He gave a wink with a sweet grin, and flitted back up to the second floor, disappearing down a long hall. 

Rin scoffed. “What’s the point in greeting everyone if you’re just going to leave?” 

Kisumi turned away from someone he had finished speaking to. He gave Rin an indulgent smile. “If you’re determined to be displeased, why did you come?” Kisumi’s wavy hair bounced as he laughed lightly. “I for one think he’s charming. And the house is phenomenal. Quite a debut, really.”

“I’m really just here for the conversation.” Rin rolled his eyes; Kisumi could be such a persistent ass. Looking into the group in the front hall, he saw Sousuke giving curt nods and handshakes a few feet away, a stoic, observant look on his face. Whenever the three of them—Kisumi, Sousuke, and Rin—ventured into the smoking rooms, galas, and box seats of the city, Rin could be sure of Sousuke’s rational presence. In discussions he favored the role of devil’s advocate, was always keen to pick up the angle of the critic; and when Rin’s wonderfully-yet-occasionally-tactlessly expressive face was putting on an accidental show, Sousuke was his settling companion, a proper mathematical logician. Kisumi, though, was the sort to jostle and tease the ones he loved. After many years of enduring this particular brand of affection, Rin knew Kisumi was prepared to draw out Rin’s foul mood today. Sometimes Rin resented the method actor his dear friend had become. Or perhaps Kisumi was always meant to be an actor, the occupation and study merely aggravating his fastidiousness into full bloom.

“Rinrin!” An excited shout came from somewhere behind him. As Rin turned, he saw the soft blond curls and gleaming eyes of Nagisa Hazuki, dragging behind him the reluctant chemist, Rei Ryugazaki. 

For the bustling joy that was Nagisa, Rin would relent a small smile. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Swimmingly.” Nagisa gave a cheeky smile; Rei sighed beside him. “Even though the season’s been a bit too quiet for me. Can you believe I’ve been here a week, and this is the first salon I’ve been to!” 

“Forgive the world, Nagisa, when they don’t realize you’ve returned to the country for a fleeting second.” Rei adjusted his glasses, looking severe as always. But the truth of the matter is that Rei was quite the enthusiast, and the calm before the storm, so to speak, was really half the fun in engaging him in conversation. Rin would guess that the little table below the mirror by the front door of his winter home held a plentiful stack of unanswered calling cards by this time. “You don’t even make announcements; just the occasional visit. It’s hardly enough notice to warrant an appointment every night.”

Nagisa gave Rei a pout. “They could send invites to the empty apartment. I have someone to receive them. And it’s not my fault they don’t make themselves as interesting as the La Ciudad Blanca.”

“Whoa, wait—” Rin’s eye’s widened at Nagisa’s nonchalance. “Is it true? Have you found it?”

Nagisa recoiled a bit, his expression twisting into slight ambivalence. “It’s hard to say now. We’re excavating, but it takes time. Getting the equipment there is hard enough.” He brightened again, an inquisitive smile stretching his lips. “But the prospect is absolutely maddening! I can’t keep myself away really. But the team told me I should take a break.”

Rin chuckled; Nagisa’s intrigue was a joy to watch. He drew you in with his words and enlivened expression; you might almost believe you could spend hours on end dusting off and cataloguing ruins for a living, too. “The tan is working for you, but something tells me you don’t use sunscreen.”

“I can assure you, he doesn’t.” Rei slipped a hand behind Nagisa’s exposed neck, just above the neatly folded collar. 

“Fuck—” Nagisa cringed away, bringing up his hands in reflex, but quickly avoiding contact with the sensitive, bright red skin. “Rei, that hurt!”

“I’m aware.”

Rin had anticipated this sort of bickering. It would almost be disruptive if the two weren’t prone to occasionally parting ways during these sorts of gatherings. They wound up at two sides of the smoking room hours later, the fog of burning paper and tobacco keeping them from locking gazes momentarily, absorbed in their own little circles for the time being. 

Rin made his way across the room. It was a cavern of books and dark leather, an intricately woven rug underneath his feet. The books were in disarray; no apparent reason for their placement. Some were even stack on top of others in the shelves, completely ignoring the logical spaces left available nearby. Seated on the ground in the distance, gazing up at a pondering Makoto Tachibana, who stroked his chin in a wingback chair, was Aiichirou Nitori. Rin furrowed his brow. What kind of decorum was that? 

He walked towards this side of the room headed by the eloquent ponderings of Makoto’s comparative mind. However, instead of slipping into the circle, Rin skimmed the side. He chanced a glance at the top of Nitori’s head, catching the slightest shift of Nitori’s bright blue eyes as he peered to the side for a moment. Rin would admit that he did not know Aiichirou Nitori’s field, but there was evidence of at least some sense in that flighty boy’s head if his careful focus on Makoto was any indicator. Rin stopped at a wall of books, where Haruka Nanase stood flipping through pages and gathering dust in his throat. “You’re not even going to add a little input? The conversation’s over there, you know.”

Haru shifted the ponderous ocean strength of his gaze onto Rin. “I publish for that reason.” Haru turned back to the shelf. “The books are out of order.”

Rin breathed an exasperated sigh; there was a little relief in there, too. The slightest bit of scandalous exasperation lightened his expression. “I’m glad you noticed. It’s a mess in here? How can anyone work like this?”

“The colors look all wrong.” Haru plowed through with his insight. Rin knew he was more of an aesthetic guy; the abstract, artistic sort. 

“Colors won’t help you find a book, Haru.” Rin goaded. Haru and him may both work with words, but they had such opposing ways of understanding them, of loving them. 

“If you think with colors, they can, Rin.” Haru gave a smirk. “Pedagogy; don’t forget.”

Rin gave a petty frown. “That’s no fair, Haruka. You give two shits about pedagogy in your personal life, and you know it.”

Haru laughed lightly. “Makoto was telling me I should be more reasonable. My self-insistence was making my work opaque—at times.”

“I mean, that’s what you get for making a literature professor your editor.” Rin scoffed. “And someone that favors Rezeptionsaestehtik, too. That was hardly a strategic choice.”

“You know that’s not what matters, Rin.” Not to Haru, at least. Strategy was wasted on a guy like him, someone that rolled with the waves, allowed them to part and collide as they would. No, choosing Makoto as his editor had merely seemed right. 

Rin looked up to Makoto, noticing how he nodded carefully now, receiving the animated words of Aiichirou from his seat on the floor. The dainty boy’s hands were flying around, clumsily molding concepts in the air, leaving them half done and jumping to the next as words fluttered off his lips like the scatterings of loose petals in the wind. Rin gave himself a moment to watch the conversation, seeing the almost frantic quiver of Aiichirou’s eyes as he rushed the words out. Perhaps it was more like watching a hummingbird; the swift beat of its wings only incidentally elegant. It was enough to make a man nervous. 

But Rin wanted to maintain his composure—he needed to. Kisumi would eat him alive soon if he caught wind of the nerves trickling into his bones, streaming through his blood like a poison. He spent a couple of hours avoiding the circles Aiichirou flitted to, noticing the sun falling low in the sky as he stopped and chatted to a few people, drinking tea and lounging in the parlor they had moved to. At this moment he was seated in a quiet corner, nestled in a chair tucked between large potted plants, the leaves casting shade from the lights of the room’s chandelier. He was closing his eyes, listening to Kisumi talk light theory and Episches Theater while occasionally slipping into monologues and quoting Brecht. Rin hoped for a vain moment that Kisumi would switch to dance instead; maybe then he’d open his eyes. But the wine he had been drinking was making him drowsy, his eyelids heavy and begging him to sleep. He succumbed for moment, allowing Kisumi’s excitable voice to fall into the white noise of the room’s chatter, the chimes of silverware, and the soft sound of shoes moving against a thick, plush carpet. 

“Um...Mister—I mean Pr-professor—professor doctor Matsuoka, sir…”

The voice reached his ear, trembling and small but close by. He opened his eyes, seeing Aiichirou duck underneath a few low-hanging leaves and step up to the place where Rin sat. His brows were furrowed, hands fidgeting together in front of him. The boy looked nervous; it was making Rin nervous. Rin cleared his throat. “Uh—Rin is fine. You don’t have to bother with the titles.”

A small smile grew on Aiichirou’s face; he bit down on his lip. “Okay, Rin.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m glad to see you here; I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to properly greet you.” 

Rin glanced away from Aiichirou’s bright blue gaze. “I mean, you’re just playing host. It’s a pretty full house.”

Aiichirou shrugged his shoulders, the fabric hanging around him shifted like an aura. “It’s a lot of people to keep track of. They have a lot to say.”

“I mean, if you’re talking to Kisumi and Nagisa, you’ll be busy enough.” Rin stretched his arms, working out the tired strain in his shoulders. “But Haru, on the other hand, will make your time as host much easier. Or harder. Depends on how you think about it.”

Aiichirou tilted his head to the side, a moment of bewilderment bringing questions to his eyes. “Haru?” He blinked recognition and raised his index finger to his cheek. “Oh! You mean Mr. Nanase.”

“Ha!” Rin shook with laughter, covering his mouth with his hand. “Oh my—”

“What’s so funny?” Ai squeaked a little indignantly.

“It’s just—to call someone like Haru, ‘Mister Nanase’—” Rin laughed between words. He took a breath and leaned back against the seat, calming down to put together his thoughts. “Oh, it’s hilarious. Beautifully ironic really.”

Aiichirou looked earnestly dubious, and Rin supposed it was a good trait not to join in on the ridicule of a stranger for the sake pleasing a guest. “Actually, Mr. Nanase seems very thoughtful to me. I haven’t read too many of his books, but I’ve seen some of his art works. They’re really...quite...Am I saying something wrong?” 

Rin’s grin was growing wide; he was biting down on his lip to keep from being rude, but he couldn’t help himself. His eyes were squinted into gleaming, happy crescents. “I’m sorry. I—it’s just Haru. You really need to speak to him some more—or at least try. Getting him to speak is like drawing blood; you’d think you were causing him pain.” As he spoke, Aiichirou made a concerned expression. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Haru and I are good friends. When you hit the right topic, he won’t quit.”

Aiichirou still seemed doubtful. “That’s good to know.” He looked away for a moment. Rin suddenly felt a little abashed for having run his mouth so much. “I didn’t realize you were good friends. Mr. Tachibana and him seem very close. Have you all known each other long?”

“Oh, Makoto and Haru grew up with each other. Their families have always been very close.” Rin toned down for moment. “I met them a little later at a gala, I think. I was trying to get Haru to speak to me at the time.” Rin gave a fond smile. 

That evening was actually a very comical one. Rin had been twelve, and heard that the only child of the Nanase family was being lauded as a prodigy, a wordsmith or something of the sort. And Rin had the sweet childhood dream of finding a companion to write letters to, build up a correspondence that posthumously would be published. The words they exchanged would always venture into poetic excellence, traversing into something truly romantic. Their friendship would hover like a ghost over their works, playing in harmony with their literary achievements. 

But childhood is naive, and Rin’s was particularly so. He played with and talked at the quiet Nanase boy all night, getting a few terse looks and reluctant words in return. Although Rin’s persistence had earned him a good friend and eventual correspondent, their letters and conversations had much more violent intensity than suited Rin’s sweet romantic dreams. Rin supposed the letters still worked thematically well with their respective works at the time.

“Aiichirou! There you are!”

The two looked behind where Aiichirou stood, a petite woman with long red hair stepping into the hidden niche created by the lush plants. Her eyes glimmered with recognition as she spotted Rin in the armchair. “Rin! I thought I’d never find you! What are you doing hiding here? Did Aiichirou need to seek you out?”

Rin fixed a weak glare on his little sister. “I wasn’t hiding, Kou. Just wanted to sit out for a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kou waved him off, then swiftly turned to Aiichirou. She took up his hand, shining a charming smile down into his abashed, startled expression. “But won’t you join us at the table, Aiichirou? Seijuro was curious about the house, and I would love to hear about it! The house is so magnificently large, there must be so much to see.”

“Oh, um—” Aiichirou took a moment to gather himself. “Of course I’ll come. But, Rin—” He looked to Rin then, but couldn't catch his gaze. Rin’s red eyes were focused on the way Kou held onto Aiichirou’s hand. “Won’t you join us, too? You’re rather tucked away here.”

“Yeah, Rin. Don’t be dull.” Kou teased, walking off with Aiichirou’s hand still in hers. The silver haired boy stumbled out of view, the leaves closing in after they left. 

Rin sighed, pushing himself languidly up from his seat. Perhaps he could humor his sister. And when had she gotten comfortable enough to hold Aiichirou’s hand and pull him around like that? 

As he stepped back into view of the party, Kou waved him over from a small table. She was seated, but Aiichirou was standing by her, leaning his hands on the table and rocking on his feet. He seemed fidgety. 

As he approached the table, he saw Nagisa speaking animatedly to Seijuro Mikoshiba. He was most likely updating him on the features of the ruins he was excavating, taking in the more tamed intrigue of Seijuro’s expression. Rin took the seat next to Seijuro, whispering a small “excuse me” as he brushed against Aiichirou to sit down. 

“I almost thought you’d gotten lost back there, you were so comfortable in that chair.” Kou leaned on her hands, looking past Aiichirou to Rin.

“Ha, ha. Very fun.” Rin rolled his eyes, leaning back to listen in on the table’s chatter. 

“—a very interesting way to combine nature and design. I’m not a particular fan of French gardens, so seeing the flowers and branches break pattern and really extend the features of the rooms is much more exciting for me. I have a number of colleagues who are quite distressed by this sort of style, but I just can’t be truly enthused by pure geometrics—especially not in organic material.” Seijuro smiled conspiratorially to the table. “But don’t tell Sousuke I said that. I don’t want to offend the abstract excellence of his theories.” He laughed a little then. Seijuro and Sousuke were often found talking numbers; Seijuro’s work in civil engineering had equipped him with enough mathematics and physics to spar quite well with Sousuke’s more theoretical focus. But this also made Seijuro the listening ear to some of Sousuke’s more self-indulgent rambles, and he occasionally laughed at the logician’s expense as a result. All in good fun, of course. Seijuro loved numbers nearly as much as Sousuke.

“Sousuke’s going to fuck your shit up one of these days, Sei.” Rin raised a brow to the architect, indulging him nonetheless with a smile. “But I won’t say anything—for now.”

“I’ll take your word for that, Matsuoka.” Sei nodded to Rin. “It’s nice to see you back in the area. Are you lecturing sometime soon?”

“You give lectures?” Aiichirou looked down to Rin, waiting for him to speak.

“Oh, yeah. On occasion.” Rin placed his elbows on the table, making the motion to truly enter the conversation. “But not anytime soon. I wanted to settle in at home for a bit before I got started. I’ve also got some things to put together for publishing, so I need some time to look over drafts and such.”

Nagisa guffawed. “More like lounge in other people’s living rooms. I’ve never seen anyone put off work the way you do.” Which was obviously a lie, but Nagisa was always inclined to quizzical acts. 

Rin bristled. “I meet all my deadlines, Nagisa. I won’t have you smearing my name in front of new company.”

Aiichirou looked aghast. “Oh, I wouldn’t hold it against you, Rin. Everyone has trouble getting to work sometimes.”

Nagisa and Kou burst into bubbling laughter; Seijuro chuckled under his breath. Rin looked scandalized. “Do you believe him?”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Aiichirou covered his mouth with his hand. “Was that indelicate of me? I can’t be teasing you about your work habits, you seem sensitive about it.”

Rin stared, open-mouthed and stunned. Nagisa and Kou doubled over in another round of laughter. Seijuro addressed Aiichirou compassionately. “Don’t mind him, Aiichirou. Rin just likes to keep face, but he does turn out good quality.”

“Oh, I know—” Aiichirou started, but in that moment came a sweeping arm that took him by the waist, and spun him suddenly away from the table. Tucked into the tall man’s chest, Aiichirou looked up to see Kisumi’s entreating smile.

“Aiichirou, darling.” Kisumi drawled, bringing a blush to Aiichirou’s cheeks. “Can you indulge me for a bit? I was wondering if you had some music lying around so we could waltz a bit. Makoto told me he’s never seen a waltz, and I just need to get him dancing.”

Rin raised a brow at Kisumi’s intimate gesture. He felt he had missed some important conversations today. 

Aiichirou blinked quickly; he answered rather meekly. “Hmm, sure. I can set it up for you. I don’t really have a wide selection of waltzing music, though. I hope it’ll be enough.”

Kisumi took up one of Aiichirou’s hands, bringing it to his lips. “I’m sure it’s more than enough. Save me a dance, won’t you?”

“S-sure.” Aiichirou tensed a bit, red to his ears, and slipped away to arrange the music. Rin watched him run off to the other side of the room. 

“Rin, you need to be my partner for the first dance.” Kou shook Rin’s shoulder, urging him out of his seat. “You waltz so well! Remember those lessons we had at home? I haven’t waltz in so long.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rin appeased her by standing, but in truth, he really did enjoy waltzing. He was quite surprised to have the opportunity to do so; most people don’t break out into dance during these types of get-togethers. But it was already quite a strange sort gathering; they had started quite early.

Kisumi came up to the two siblings, sauntering like he was ready to sweep the whole room into his arms. “I hope you two enjoy yourselves, I was thinking of you, as well.”

Kou smiled sweetly, but her words came out with slight snark. “Oh, you’re too kind. You really know how to work the room, don’t you?”

Rin resolved to give Kisumi a cynical look. “I hope you were thinking of Sousuke, too. He’s going to kill you; he’s clumsy as fuck.”

Kisumi gave a mischievous laugh. His smile was wicked. “Oh, I’m aware. But I think I can get Haruka to offer him a dance or two.”

Kou and Rin scoffed in sync. “Haru!”

“Of course.” Kisumi sang, and walked off to where Makoto, Haru, and Sousuke were standing. 

“Oh, he’s evil.” Kou murmured as she watched him enter the small circle of people, quickly latching onto Makoto. Haru looked unamused. 

“Oh, yeah, he sure is.” Rin nodded, following Kou’s gaze. “Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t use his dramaturgical theories on our friends. It has a high potential of backfiring one of these days.”

“Well, at least we get to see Haruka and Sousuke spar a bit with dance. Maybe Haru will write a poem about it.”

“Or he’ll plow Sousuke into a wall.”

“Oh my.”

In that moment, the music chimed light and delicate into the air. It was an understated piano solo, but fluttering and easy to dance to. Kou and Rin quickly assumed position, and they waltz into the room’s cleared center, spinning happily together as the others gathered into pairs. Kisumi and Makoto soon joined them, a little slower as he helped Makoto learn the steps. Nagisa pulled Rei into the proper stance, Rei’s reluctance clear by his stiff gestures and the stutters falling from his mouth. Seijuro had asked another woman at the party to dance, Rin catching the moment as the poised architect bowed and took her hand by the hand. The younger Mikoshiba was a couple feet away from his brother, and to Rin it seemed liked a strategic choice. The little electrical engineer was much like the boundless energy he worked with, and Momotarou Mikoshiba was certainly showing it now. He had taken Aiichirou’s hands and was spinning him wildly, moving more like he was in the middle of a field than a drawing room. 

Kou leaned in to whisper in her brother’s ear. “Have you seen Sousuke? He looks absolutely livid.”

Rin sought his dear friend out, spotting him seated side by side with Haru, the two ignoring each other quite determinately. “Ha! I guess Kisumi’s plan didn’t work.”

“I’m almost sorry to see that.”

The dance went on, and the siblings gossiped and chattered about the room. It was actually quite rejuvenating to dance like this. He would need to thank Kisumi later, and perhaps talk to Aiichirou about the music. It was quite good. 

The second dance started, and Seijuro secured Kou as his partner. He spotted Kisumi take up Aiichirou for the next dance. Someone needed to spare that boy from Momo’s mindless turns. Haruka took up Makoto as soon as Kisumi left his side, starting a mindless step stiffly. Rin laughed at his friend; Haruka couldn’t waltz for shit. 

Even though he was eager to keep turning in the middle of the room, taken by the piano’s sweet chimes and lilting notes, he spared Sousuke the boredom and sat beside him. 

“How’s it going?” Rin wiggled his eyebrows playfully, trying to sooth the aggravation marring his friend’s serious expression. 

“Beautifully.” Sousuke grumbled, scowling for extra show.

“Oh, don’t be so angry! This almost never happens, everyone will be seated and talking soon enough.” Rin couldn’t be bogged down now by Sousuke’s mood; the music was thrilling. 

“I’m sure, Rin. But until then I’m at Kisumi’s mercy.” Sousuke glared at Kisumi’s twirling form, pretty much carrying Aiichirou away.

“You know Kisumi just likes to have fun. You’d think he was a sociologist, the way he handles everyone, though.” Rin turned to watch Kisumi as well. He wasn’t the best at waltzing in terms of form, but he was always fluid and elegant. In that moment, he had Aiichirou close to his chest, was clutching his hand, and nuzzling his nose into the boy’s hair. Rin’s eyes widened. “Wow, Kisumi's quite taken with Aiichirou, isn’t he?”

Sousuke looked curiously at Rin. “Everyone is, really. What have you been doing all this time? The party’s a hit, and Aiichirou’s a nice guy. A little reserved and lacking in confidence, but very smart and capable.”

Rin gawked at Sousuke. “Wh-what have I missed? You never take to someone that quickly. Those are bold words, Sousuke.”

Sousuke shrugged, snatching a nearby tea cake and eating it in one bite. He could be a little unrefined at times. “It’s true. You should talk to him some more. It’s a bit rude that you haven’t really.”

Rin sputtered. “You! Calling me rude? I’m having an off day, Sousuke. And forgive me if appointments at nine in the morning aren’t quite to my taste.”

Sousuke raised his brow skeptically at Rin. “Don’t say anything to me. Maybe you should ask Aiichirou for a dance, though.”

Rin pursed his lips. The music stopped then, and another song began to fill the room. A couple dancers parted, and Kisumi made his way over with Aiichirou by his side. The boy was flushed, but smiling wonderfully. He bounced with every step. “That was so wonderful, Kisumi! You’re such an incredible dancer. I normally only play the music on the piano or listen to it, but I never knew it could be so fun to dance, too.”

Kisumi took Aiichirou’s hand and gave him a twirl. They stood just in front of Sousuke and Rin now. “I’m glad to show you such joy. It’s really my pleasure.” He held Aiichirou’s hand and kissed it delicately. 

Rin was still recoiling from Sousuke’s words. He took in a breath to calm himself down. “You haven’t seen good waltzing until you’ve watched me waltz.”

Aiichirou and Kisumi both looked to Rin. Kisumi smirked. “Are you going to show me up, Rin?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘show you up,’ rather entertain the room. And show Aiichirou a real waltz.” Rin drawled smugly, standing up with pompous show and straightening his vest.

“Will you go up for another dance then?” Aiichirou asked eagerly, bouncing where he stood.

Rin looked a bit abashed at the excitable host standing before him. He took his hand, and walked away from Kisumi and Sousuke. “Yes, I will.”

The air was filled with the grandiose sound of an orchestral piece. Rin smiled contentedly; this was definitely a showpiece. He assumed stance with Aiichirou, feeling the way his partner allowed him to take the lead. Aiichirou was about the same height as his sister, if maybe a little smaller around the waist. But the boy fit comfortably in his arms, and he held him close to his chest without too much concern. He didn’t place his lips at the top of Aiichirou’s head as Kisumi had, but he held him close around the waist. Every subsequent movement was fluid and easy, Aiichirou’s body pliant to Rin's every twist and turn.

Rin cleared his throat. “Sorry for not having properly introduced myself earlier. You probably already know by now, but I’m Rin Matsuoka. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Aiichirou giggled, the slightest bit of an uneasy undertone to his voice. “It’s fine. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. I’m Aiichirou Nitori, but you surely already know that as well.”

Rin smiled, looking out to the room around him. “I must look exceptionally rude now. I don’t even know what you work with. Is it plants?”

“Oh, well, kind of.” Aiichirou looked up at Rin, his features composed and almost serious. It reminded Rin of Sousuke when he started talking about his work. “I do biochemical research, and I mostly work with plants as my resources. The botany sort of arose as an accident.” His expression shifted into something warmer, eyes a little distant. “My mother is also very fond of flowers. I grew up always having them around. And she likes to see me work with them.”

Rin watched the warmth bring an endearing glow to Aiichirou’s face. “That’s very kind of you.”

They spun around in comfortable silence for a bit, enjoying the overture leading their steps. Aiichirou allowed Rin to swing his light body around, nearly weightless in his arms. It almost seemed as though they could fall into a pas de deux, and maybe Rin would have if his ballet weren’t so rusty. As the music came to a close, Rin spun Aiichirou with a flourish. It wasn’t quite a waltz, but Rin’s body was ringing with energy. The room applauded; Aiichirou flushed; Rin bowed.

The dancing came to an end, and another round of tea was brought out. Aiichirou had a butler light the fireplace, giving the room a warm ambiance. Aiichirou lounged by the hearth, sitting out the conversations for a bit. Rin saw him from across the room, and a curious impulse urged him to sit by the slender boy’s side.

“Tired, are you?” Rin teased lightly, deciding to sit on the floor rather than the chair nearby. There was something very humble about the way Aiichirou repeatedly chose to sit on the carpet rather than the opulent seats in the room. 

Aiichirou looked to Rin, eyes alight with a gentle enthusiasm. “Only a little. I feel like my voice will be hoarse for days.”

Rin chuckled. “That happens sometimes. I remember hosting my first party. I was the biggest asshole. I wouldn’t shut up.”

Aiichirou looked shocked. “I’m sure that’s not true! You just have a lot to say. Words are your medium.”

“No, I was an asshole.” Rin nodded humbly, a smile on his face nonetheless. “And a cocky one at that.”

Aiichirou relented a little to Rin’s words. “Well, it’s hard to be an asshole without being cocky, too.”

“I guess you’re right.”

They fell to silence for a moment, Rin watching the fire consume the wood. Aiichirou watched his thoughtful expression, biting his lip as he worked his way to words. “Rin, why did you become a linguist?”

Rin looked back to Aiichirou, expression open and curious. “Oh, well, there were a lot of reasons really. I loved writing, but I also loved language. I had picked up a few and fell in love with the process of learning. Somehow I ended writing a doctorate then.” Rin laughed, brushing off the accomplishment, the hours of work, and years of research. 

“A few languages?” Aiichirou remained stunned. “How many can you speak?”

Rin looked away self-consciously. “Well, I speak four. But you can’t really speak Latin, so I only read that one.”

Aiichirou’s eyes were glowing. “Which languages? Wow, that’s incredible. I only speak three, and it's already quite hard. I couldn’t call myself fluent.”

Rin shrugged. “Well, fluent is debatable. The concept itself wavers depending on who you’re talking to, but also with what you’re talking about. I suppose I’m conversationally fluent in Spanish, German, and Italian, but I wouldn’t really choose to write essays in them. Doctorate work in German sounds like a nightmare.”

Aiichirou was still gleaming with the intensity of the sun. “Have you ever written about your experiences in those languages? It must have been such an adventure, to have found yourself in each language, and then to shift between them in daily life. Academic writing has a tendency to really ignore the interaction between these grammatical structures that occur actively in the mind, forming our thoughts and creating hierarchies that exist beyond our control. Language forms our existences, and you don't really know it until you need to bend yourself into a new shape, a new sentence structures that prioritized ideas and states of being you've never fancied before. I find myself making the silliest of mistakes when I speak the slightest bit of Italian; just one word, and I fall into it head first, tongue discarding the first language and pushing forward in the new one. By the end, it's a whole new sentence, a different thought with a new subject. I find that your writing acknowledges more of these unconscious intersections in language learning and everyday existence. There's a consciousness for the way we put ideas together, and how this process endows us with preconceived notions, puts us in a certain place and molds our perspectives."

Rin gazed at Aiichirou, honestly astonished. The boy's whole body seemed poised and eager, running off into a stream of consciousness all his own, but carefully thought out and lovingly spoken. As though he had been sitting on these words for hours—maybe days—biting his tongue and resisting outlet. Rin's entire expression was alight, attentive, and eager. He saw in Aiichirou’s face—felt in his words—an intensity that ran with his own, urged him to speak. “You’re so observant. Did you get that from meeting my work? I just—it’s often so personal for me that it’s more of a case study. And I’ve observed the way other people learn, but I operate from my own notions first. I’m a little stuck on Husserl’s phenomenology, and it makes it’s hard to believe that my words really can capture an expansive human experience. Sousuke has me putting so much doubt into my work; he’s just being logical, though.” Rin shook his head self-deprecatingly, thinking over all the subjectivity hidden in his thesis, in his articles, published under the title of “research,” and “empirical study.”

Aiichirou shook his own head eagerly, trying to push away skepticism Rin had smudged over his mind. “It’s true that we often see what we want, only what we can see, but there is such as a thing as shared experiences and common phenomena, things that repeat. We learn from them, and expand ourselves through that knowledge. An eternal process, a repeated experience that only the many can fathom, the individual simply cannot grasp it.” 

Rin blinked for a moment, turning over the words in his head. “You’re going to have to repeat that one to Sousuke. I think he’ll write an algorithm for you.”

“I don’t need the algorithm, Rin. The idea will suffice.”

“Sustain you, so to speak.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Aiichirou, what do you need in your life? What sustains you here?”

Aiichirou paused for moment; he flinched backwards from the question. “What do I need? You’re talking scientifically, Rin; why would you do that?”

Rin looked away, flustered for a moment. “I’m sorry, I got carried away. I just—I don’t know what you do. Can you show me?”

Aiichirou stood up then, a bashful red spreading over his porcelain skin, across his cheekbones and coloring his expression with vibrant life. “I hope you don’t mind the cold then—we’re going to need to go outside.” 

Rin stood up, following Aiichirou as he slipped by on the edges of the party, careful not to catch any wandering gaze that might make him pause. Rin’s heart was fluttering in his chest; he wanted to understand the thoughts winding away in Aiichirou’s head, the ones that filled his home, and found their way to paper. 

Aiichirou led them into a hallway, lined on both sides with fine paintings of landscapes and specimens, cross-sections of plants painted in vivid detail. Aiichirou’s form looked like a nymph, flitting forward in the greenery, in harmony with this hybrid home. Seijuro had been quite right; you couldn’t tell where the building ended and the plants began. They all seemed to meld together. A forest growing within the deep mansion halls.

The two reached a glass door then; grand columns stood on the outside, a canopy that sheltered the terrace the falling snow. Rin had nearly forgotten it was cold; the sunlight bounced off the smooth, clean surface of snow now blanketing the ground. Rin turned to Aiichirou; he looked confused. “Shouldn’t we get our jackets? And maybe you should change first—you’re wearing shorts.”

Aiichirou shook his head. “Don’t worry; it’s warm where we’re going.”

The boy slid open the glass door, stepping out onto the patio. He gave a delicate shiver, but encouraged Rin with a nod of his head. Rin walked out then, and Aiichirou closed the door behind them. 

It was hard not to be impressed by the grounds, even if with only the evergreens thriving in this cold. But there were remnants of rose arches; the wooden frames still high in the air, creating a path to a large glass building in the distance. It looks like a miniature castle; something that would be seen on a mountain, tucked away in the wilderness. But the glass walls made it look so delicate, so fragile, Rin was worried the winds would shatter it. 

“That’s the greenhouse.” Aiichirou sighed, enamored by his palace of verdure. “I spend a lot of my free time there. Sometime I even manage to bring my work—when it doesn’t need to be done in a lab.” 

Rin grabbed onto Aiichirou’s hand then, he pulled him forward through the arches, making his way to the imposing greenhouse. “It’s warm there, you say?”

“Of course! How else could anything stay alive in there? The cold has no mercy, Rin.”

At the door, Rin still couldn’t see what was inside. The cold had created a fine layer of condensation on the inside, leaving fogged over like frosted glass. He could only make out the vague outlines of tall trees; enormous leaves that created obscuring shadows underneath. Aiichirou opened the door, then a rush of heat colliding with the cold air. Aiichirou quickly stepped inside, escaping the cold wind and snow that whipped at the exposed skin of his legs.

And Rin could only stare for a while. He walked in, stunned by the light falling in through the glass, the trees so tall they curved under the roof, and seemed to cluster at the top. There were no boundaries to the plants; you could not see the places where dirt ended and the marble floor of the paths began. All the corners were hidden underneath lush bushes and flowers, another stem of life budding on the surface, seeking the places where sunlight managed to reach the floor. And at the center was a lounge—nothing more. Not even a desk. Like a place to plant oneself among the flora, undisturbed and at peace. 

“It’s incredible, Ai.” Rin said, awed and breathless. 

For a moment, the only reply was the sound of Ai walking towards the lounge, the clicks of his shoes on the smooth marble. But he spoke soon enough; taking a seat; inviting Rin to sit.

“I’m glad you think so.”

Rin made his way to sit beside the boy, taking in as much of the greenhouse as he could. But there was too much to see; he needed days—weeks—years to acquaint himself with every curve, with every species housed in this crystal palace. He needed words. 

Rin turned to his companion then, catching Ai’s blue eyes calmly taking in Rin’s amazement. Before Rin could find the words, Ai spoke. “You know, Rin, I’ve admired your work for a while.” He looked away there, abashed by his own words. “Your work is incredible; you’ve changed the way people think. I just—I wanted you to know that. I’m not very good with words, but—“

Rin cut Ai off with the press of his lips. For a moment the boy was shocked, his shoulders were stiff with surprise. But soon enough he melted, moving his lips against Rin’s, feeling the soft skin urgent on his, the heat of Rin’s tongue caressing him. No, Rin had not expected this. How could he expect this? His heart was quivering; he felt like it was spinning wildly, unraveling itself, loosening all of his bones. He slid his arms around Ai’s waist, taking him onto his lap. There was a party waiting outside, a group of people wondering where their sweet, dainty host had gone. Ai’s hands slid into Rin’s hair, pulling at the roots and drawing a groan from Rin’s mouth. Ai kissed down Rin’s neck, leaving him to pant as he leaned back against the lounge. Perhaps they were worried; what could possibly have happened to the two? 

He really couldn’t manage to be concerned. Rin was enjoying himself tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you've enjoyed the thoroughly nerdy Iwatobi and Samezuka crew. I've never been so self-indulgent in my life; I just believe Rin is very smart, and everyone should know it.
> 
> Get it, bae.


End file.
